


Amarantos

by Glory_To_Our_August_King



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Drama & Romance, F/M, Gen, Giant Robots, Mecha, Military Training, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:53:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glory_To_Our_August_King/pseuds/Glory_To_Our_August_King
Summary: In the wake of his wife's failed contact experiment with Unit-01, Gendo Ikari sets about the task of discarding his old life. For Shinji Ikari, this means being sent away to live in Germany on the Langley Estate, where he grows up in the company of a spitfire redhead.
Relationships: Ikari Shinji/Souryuu Asuka Langley
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	1. Ue o Muite Arukō

**Amarantos**

**(Greek: Unfading)**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Ue o Muite** **Arukō**

* * *

What Gendo Ikari remembered most about his mother was her hospital room.

The soapy vanilla scent of the sheets and how very, very cold his legs had been, dangling from the plastic chair nearest her bed. It was the kind one might find in an elementary school, cracked at the backrest and with rust spattered stands. Feet kicking side to side, he would examine the holes in his sneakers while his most prized, and really only possession – a clunky cassette player – sat in his lap.

He'd bought it at a festival for his seventh birthday, when his mother had handed him a five-hundred yen coin and told him to get whatever he wanted. They'd been playing songs from Kyu Sakamoto, making him think of her standing by the radio in the kitchen. How she would shake her head and smile whenever his music came on.

"I'm going to be famous one day, Geny, just you wait. A hot American singer like that Sakamoto fella'."

At home on her nightstand, she used to keep pictures of Judy Garland and Rosemary Clooney, and had once owned a wall-spanning collection of swing era albums. She'd gathered them all throughout her younger years, scrounging together every bit of excess yen, but had to sell them once he was born. He used to think it'd be nice to buy them all back for her one day. She loved to sing and had even learned some English to try and echo those American jazz artists just right.

Gendo never had the chance to hear her cadence, at least not at an age he could remember, due to the illness that so often confined her to a bed. He liked to imagine she sounded like the people on his mixtapes, of which he had a handful, tossed in with the player he'd bought from the vendor. They kept him company whenever she was away or in the hospital. When he closed his eyes and started to drift off in their moldy, water stained home, he imagined it was her lulling him to sleep.

They had not been making him very sleepy at the time, and he'd been doing his best to tune out his step-father arguing with the doctors out in the hall. That was when he had felt her fingers in his hair, gently calling his attention.

There wasn't any hair left on her head and she was very thin, so much so he could make out every bony contour under her skin. Her eyelids were droopy, but she managed to smile a little for him. Or it looked like she was smiling. He couldn't tell for sure because of the mask over her face.

She beckoned him with shaking arms and he crawled in bed with her, resting his head against her breast and listening to her heart. A frail hand tugged the silicone cover from her chin, dragging it down with every little ounce of strength she could muster. Holding him, she started to sing. Her tortured throat made the words scratchy and at times hard to decipher, but it was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.

" _I look up while I walk... so the tears won't fall... remembering those spring days, but tonight I have you... I look up while I walk, counting the stars with teary eyes... remembering those summer days... but tonight I have you..._ "

Each word came so slow, shivering from her lips one by one while something wet trickled into his hair. He was not sure when her voice had stopped, or when the whirring of the life support had turned into a deafening whine. She was still warm, even after her heart stopped beating, and he fought the nurses when they tried to pry him free. Up until his stepfather grabbed him and smacked him, eyes furious and cheeks overrun with tears.

Gendo could not be certain why this vast graveyard, gritty and barren, reminded him of somewhere so sterile and frigid. At the very least he was able to bring flowers this time, while his mother and her very small marker had received none. It had taken all of their savings just to give her a proper funeral. He couldn't be sure if his mother had even cared much for flowers.

In fact, Yui had never told him what her favorite blossoms were either. If she had ever entertained a preference. So he settled on white chrysanthemums at the suggestion of the priest, who'd seen fit to offer his advice where it was not asked for. Gendo did not have the strength to hold him under much contempt for it.

Before him was a black slab, decently taller than his mother's tiny marker. But there was no corpse to cremate, no ashes to sift through for bones, starting from the feet and slowly wandering to the head as they were sorted into a small urn. Nor would there be a plaque for her at her family's shrine, which had been destroyed with the entirety of Tokyo. This place was merely a mass grave without corpses, a hollow testament that there was once life here.

No, for Yui, there was just a name and a date. He supposed that would suffice. Gendo kneeled to set the flowers down at its base, plastic crinkling as it left his fingers. After a moment of debate, he decided against praying, resting his hands on his thighs instead. He used to pray, long ago for the handful of times he was able to visit his mother. At least there had been a jar full of ashes back then, something tangible and real to hear his thoughts and prayers.

Worship had ceased at home shortly after she passed. They hadn't been able to afford some of the more grand and elaborate shrines he had seen in other homes. Rather, it was a re-purposed cupboard put on a stool by the front door. One of the panels had always hung slightly ajar from a crooked hinge, allowing one to glimpse the small, weathered bodhisattva statuette inside and mother's prayer beads hanging from its neck.

When they came home from the funeral, he covered it in white paper like grandfather had taught him. To ward away any evil spirits. His step-father smashed it to pieces a week later during another one of his drunken fits.

In his and Yui's home now, there was no shrine to Buddha or God or Ahura Mazda – or any other deity imagined by man. Their religion was one of fields and particles, collections of neural data and cells that congealed to form people and reality as they knew it.

For such a very long time, before the gateway to metaphysics had been opened to him, Gendo had decided that life was just an accidental collision of fields and energies. That, when those two powers ceased to hold together, there was nothing. No afterlife, no rebirth, no great journey to some ethereal plane. It was a sad kind of existence when he dwelled on it, but Yui had never seen it that way. His wife had found the light in everything.

She had, ever so subtly, converted him.

Rock and mineral scraped at his back, where Shinji stood, quiet, but looking to him in askance. So steady and thoughtful for a four year old. He'd completely forgotten the boy was even there. Gendo turned away when he realized there was more than a question in his son's eyes – there was fear. And why shouldn't he be afraid?

Yui had envisioned a future, for herself – and for him. She'd seen something in him that others had given up searching for, and offered him a place in that warm world of hers when no one else cared to offer him anything. In time, he had begun to see it too, in the way she smiled at her round belly and asked him what they would name this new life.

There were hands holding firm to the fabric of his pants as they balled into fists. His hands, but not his hands. They did not feel as though they belonged to him, and he eased forward, hunched in front of her grave as his fingers moved to sink into the earth.

 _Help me, Yui.  
_  
"Please... help me."

* * *

* * *

The boy was throwing another fit. Over what, Gendo couldn't fathom. Something in the meal? He told the boy to sit and be silent.

Little Shinji threw his dinner plate to the floor and screamed, "I hate you!"

Gendo's hands met the table as he stood, another threat on the tip of his tongue.

"You killed her! You killed her!"

There was a resounding _slap_ and Shinji was half to the floor, cheek splotched red. Gendo's blood went cold in an instant and try as he might in the years to come, he would never forget that face. That look of utter betrayal. He would have rather faced his wife's empty entry plug again than be looked at like that.

Reality tumbled over the boy, drawing out tearful wails. "I want my mommy!" Shinji half sobbed and half shrieked, running to his room and slamming the door shut.

Gendo's shoulders slumped and for a while he just stared down the hall, listening to the rhythmic _tick tick_ of the wall-mounted clock and the muffled chirping of the cicada bugs outside. The mid-summer heat pooled over him and he looked to the open patio doors with a frown. It was always mid-summer... and it always _would_ be. For as long as they were allowed to endure – which did not seem to be very long at all.

His eyes fell to the white shards and remnants of food scattered across their maroon rug. He bent and started to collect the pieces bit by bit. The nerves in his fingers danced and flesh parted as sharp glass carved into his hand. Gendo cursed, clutching his wrist as if that would do something to ease the searing burn. Red flowed from his fingers and palm, thick globules clinging to his knuckles before falling to soak into the carpet.

All at once the apartment seemed darker, heavier. It weighed down on him like a rolling tidal wave, swallowing every ounce of energy he had left. Eventually, Gendo found the will to stand at the sink. Water splashed into the steel basin and mingled with drops of blood, until steam began to rise and he stuck his hand under the scalding water. His skin screamed and he grit his teeth as white-hot pain dove into the pink flesh. He kept it there under the hissing water until he couldn't feel anymore.

He turned the faucet off, flexing his fingers, buzzing with sensory overload. He found the medical kit in the storage closet off of the kitchen and wrapped it tight in gauze. As he went about cleaning up the dining room mess, carefully this time, he noticed the answering machine near the door winking a tiny red light.

Another call from the professor? That would be the most logical answer. The staff, the Committee – being Director of a global research group meant he had little time to himself, especially with that meddlesome old man leaning over his shoulder.

Deciding to ignore the waiting messages yet again out of spite, Gendo started washing the dishes. His watch read 12:01.

The entire day had been spent home, quietly sorting through the "office". Discarding what was not needed, boxing other items and possessions. There were still shelves lined with books, from philosophical to scientific, to just plain fiction. The living room was modest, but well furnished – though at the moment felt bigger than a theater without an audience. In the other room, their bedroom, it was a maze of organized chaos. Everything was probably a bit dusty now. He'd been sleeping on the couch for the past few days.

Shinji had been an utter nuisance the entire time. Gendo supposed that was just the nature of children, and the reason he had so vehemently protested having one. Even with the private tutor, the boy was... difficult. It was a burden he'd never wanted – had never believed he was capable of bearing. It was at Yui's insistence that they'd had a child.

She had believed.

Gendo looked around the living room again to keep his thoughts from drifting, to keep his heart from stinging. Everything reminded him of her. The scent of her citrus body wash permeated every pillow, and the heavy lavender aroma of her perfume soaked itself in the walls and washed through his lungs.

A sparse few photos hung upon simple white plaster: their wedding day – and the night they had brought Shinji home. Upon the mantle piece over the fireplace sat her violin; red wood lighted with warm streaks of gold and cherry, sleek and polished. Though he noticed, with some annoyance, that one of the strings had snapped.

It was so quiet.

Even the slow, oscillating pattern of the ceiling fan couldn't keep it at bay anymore, turning into yet more empty noise. It broke into the house, pouring over every inch and worming its way into his ears. His hands began to tremble and his heart beat faster and faster as his chest swelled – plugging his throat. Gendo clasped his hands over his ears as it crept over him in shuddering tides. He bent over, eyes squeezed shut while his shoulders shook with soundless sobs.

The ringing silence persisted, but as with his quiet grief, eventually subsided. The world seemed to come back to sound and feeling, though his chest felt no less numb.

Gendo slid his hands down his face, a half-hearted attempt to clear his watery vision and streaked cheeks. He sniffed and folded his hands, blinking several times as his eyes drifted to the coffee table at his knees, sliding lethargically over the manila folders spread across it. Then they snapped back, a name catching his eye.

 _Keel.  
_  
He thought he could be strong enough.

Shinji didn't deserve to be growing up around so much hate and death. But Gendo had helped bring him into this world. Because of him, his mother had been taken away. The accusation snapped a cord in his heart, twisting his veins with virulent malice and disgust. What was he supposed to do – _how_ was he supposed to raise this child alone?

That night, Gendo Ikari did not sleep, haunted by the hatred in the eyes of the boy down the hall.

* * *

* * *

He hated their living room.

There was a new coffee stain on the white couch and it wasn't even from the child, who'd been taught early on to be wary of making such messes. The long low-end table was a glorified dumping ground for anything and everything, miscellaneous piles of half packed moving boxes stacked high on either side of the entertainment system. At some point, he recalled as if grasping for a dream, that this had been a comforting place.

It had endured the One Year War and various marital squabbles. Gendo had been sitting in the armchair there three years ago with Shinji in his lap, watching the television as a news anchor informed Japan that Tokyo had just been attacked. He'd felt the tremors and thought it little more than an earthquake. The pillar of smoke had risen over the hills shortly after and his stomach might as well have been voided.

The anchor broke the news uneasily. Japan had suffered its third nuclear bombing.

He'd learned they were not the only ones and had spent several days glued to the television, ushered out to attend to his worldly responsibilities only at Yui's quiet insistence. Each night he learned of more sprawling cities that had been turned into ashen planes, of the desert capitals in the middle east - now silent glass craters. Not even the United States had made it through unscathed.

Now, Shinji was off with his tutor as usual, while Gendo again neglected his duties and the chores that needed doing around the house. When the boy returned, they would eat in silence and Gendo would dismiss him to his room, as was also becoming ritual. Night by night he came to resent this burden more and more.

There was a notion in him, stirring as the fledgling tides of the sea. To reach out and speak. To do any of the things that had once been so easy and mundane. Nothing ever came of these efforts, where he forgot to shave and snubbed the opportunity to shower. Some days he could not even be bothered to eat.

When his body had had enough, when his legs carried him into their bedroom – that awful room that smelled like her, that disappointed him every time he did not find her in bed – he returned to the task at hand with mindless purpose. The task of discarding his old life.

While rifling through their things, he came across the old tape player he'd thought lost ages ago. This particular player was one of the newer models, bought for him by Yui for a birthday he'd stopped caring about decades ago.

Thankfully, the mixtapes he had never found the heart to get rid of were still compatible with the more compact portable players. For the first time in years he listened to the jaunty tunes of Sakamoto, understanding the words with a new ear. How his mother had changed the lyrics as a final parting gift.

It did not lift his heart to hear it, yet the old words brought comfort, somehow. He spent his nights here now, in this blasted living room, clutching his SDAT the way a smoker clung reverently to his cigarette pack. But tonight, he was reading. The research files that had landed in a heap on the coffee table were open in a mess of precise medical jargon. Incoherent gibberish to anyone else, but ordered chaos to him.

It was the Eva.

Always the Eva.

It was the key to everything.

* * *

* * *

Three months later, the new year rolled over.

It was February and Japan should have been shaking off the residuals of winter. Instead, the morning air was raw and humid in the pine laden valley of Hakone. The mists hung lower over the bare skeleton of a city and the cries of the cranes reached far across the serene countryside, not yet disturbed by the blaring of construction.

Gendo waited at the train station, holding Shinji's tiny hand in his. Fuyutsuki stood on the other side of the boy.

"Don't you think a father is what he needs right now?" the elder asked, bordering contempt.

"No," Gendo said, staring off into the fog. "He'll be better off."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the unconvinced look Fuyutsuki made, but no further protest left his lips. Instead, he said, "Just answer me one thing: why Germany?"

"He must be able to pilot if the need should arise."

The man flinched as if stabbed. "Ikari..."

"The Second is no older. We'll gather all of the necessary data while everything is being prepared."

The man's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "It's just an all too convenient excuse, isn't it?"

Gendo cast his gaze down at Shinji, who was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes. A narrow rail-car soon squealed into its berth, announcements droning with it. "Grab your things," he said. Little Shinji did as he was told, struggling as he hefted the oversized duffel bag.

"Where we going?" he asked.

"You are going away for a while."

Shinji flinched, eyes wide. "But – I don't wanna'!"

The train doors parted, revealing a man in a long-sleeved white button shirt and black khakis, hair shaved close to his head. The boy's tutor.

"Inside," Gendo said in his quietly firm voice, a hand pushing against Shinji's back.

His bag dropped as his fists went to his eyes. "But why?" he whimpered, trying to wipe away gathering tears.

Something twisted in him and a gnawing pit formed in Gendo's stomach, his hands trembling. He stuffed them in his pockets, eyes lingering on Shinji only a moment longer. One that stretched on forever, spanning nearly a hundred breaths. In that instance, he felt doubt, fear – anger. A torrent of emotion swept over him, though failed to move his impassive features.

That night he had struck his son threw him away from the station and its hissing air compressors, standing him in their house again to watch as Shinji ran from him screaming, _"I hate you!"  
_  
Gendo stiffened, hands clenching as he clung to resolution before hesitation could snare him again. There was nothing the boy would gain from him. Not as a father.

That was something he could never be.

"You mustn't run away, Shinji," he said and fished the old SDAT player from his jacket pocket, taking a knee and putting it in little Shinji's grasp. He stood straight, sliding his hands in his pockets again to keep them from shaking as he turned and began walking down the platform, Fuyutsuki at his side.

"Dad!" Shinji cried, small hands fighting tears, "don't leave me dad! Please, I'm sorry – I'm sorry!"

Gendo kept his head up as he walked.

* * *

**Neon  
Genesis  
Evangelion:  
Act I: Elysium**

* * *

Shinji held his knees to his chest, staring down at his white shoes. There was a black streak he thought he should wipe away, unable to muster the will to move unless prompted. The train ride had been really long and he had been asleep most of the plane trip – wherever it was he was going with his Teacher. It seemed like he was being taken to the other side of the world.

"We're here."

Shinji looked up and found everything was brighter, sky-touching trees making the sun wink as they passed by. He had to twist in his seat belt, wishing he was grown-up sized.

In a moment the glowing countryside whisked his discomfort away.

Beyond the road stretched fields of pale green and autumn gold, rolling up to a house – Shinji's brow furrowed in thought – three stories tall! It was like no house he'd ever seen, made up of rough white stone. With its squat, heavy shapes, it appeared to have been squished between the hands of a giant at some point, squeezing its tiny windows together, the edges of which were rimmed with red bricks. Spires poked up from its steep rain-gray roof, where the fingers of green vines clawed up the walls to touch them.

"Where are we?" he asked, face pressed to the glass.

"I will tell you when you sit properly," Teacher said. Shinji's shoulders sagged, but he did as he was told and the man nodded. "This is the Langley estate. The Colonel is very generously providing us with housing here."

Shinji's face scrunched. "Why?"

"It is what your father wishes," Teacher said and Shinji sank in his seat a little, staring at the car door as weariness pulled at his body. He reached into the pockets of his shorts, one hand finding the music player father had given him.

The vehicle squealed to a stop.

"Come," Teacher said.

Waiting for them was a tall man with an ugly face; all square and more than a little wrinkly. There must have been something wrong with him, because he didn't look like anyone else Shinji had ever met. Teacher approached and bowed. The man did the same and then they shook hands, speaking... something. Those weren't words! That was just gibberish!

The man then motioned to Shinji and Teacher nodded, face stretching into a smile as he indulged the boy with a slight bow. Shinji looked to Teacher, who motioned impatiently for him to do the same.

The man chuckled as he did. "It's nice to meet you, _junger_ Shinji."

 _Junger_? Shinji wondered, straightening up a little, awaiting explanation as he looked from one to the other. The two continued their conversation, forgetting about him entirely. The taller man made a few gestures, pointing somewhere beyond the big house.

"Come along, Shinji," Teacher said, pulling the boy from his gazing. As they walked by, Shinji noticed a little girl in a black dress frowning at him from the open doorway. He stopped to stare at her – that red hair and big blue eyes.

The girl sniffed and ran out of sight.

 _Red_. He thought, struck dumb on the spot. _Red like fire_. Shinji turned to Teacher, only to find he had been left behind. His short legs struggled to catch up. "Who– who was that girl?"

"Never you mind," he said, leading the way through a winding path of archways wrapped with white flowered vines. The looming castle was steadily consumed by the trees and bushes of purple and yellow, which spilled strange stinging scents into his nose. He sniffed and itched, which only made it itch all the more.

There were many pathways and he was thankful that at least Teacher knew where they were going. At the same time, Shinji couldn't help but wonder what lay beyond. Smaller trees reached over the smelly bushes, cooling lily-pad laden ponds with their shade. Slowly the world shifted in shape and color as the trees grew taller and their trunks grew fatter.

Shinji glanced back, glad the stone castle was still in sight. But even that became distant as they reached a tiny, albeit more familiar, house like the ones where he lived. It was then that he noticed the sky had begun to darken, dyeing everything shades of yellow and orange as the sun shrank away. The tallest spires of the castle poked over the tall trees, but he couldn't see much beyond the alien bushes and hulking trunks. Keys jangled and something clicked, Teacher calling him inside. Shinji hesitated at the threshold, staring down at that small line between concrete and wood. His feet and knees felt tight, as if someone had glued his shoes to the ground. Eyes traveling up again, he was met with darkness and s shadow he recognized as Teacher.

"Shinji," Teacher said and a light snapped on, casting his tall caretaker in black, but bathing all else in an orange glow.

"Why... can't I..." he started, but couldn't get the words past the brick in his throat.

"This is your home now."

Shinji swallowed, but the lump didn't pass and he stepped inside. The walls were far too tall, or maybe the rooms were just too empty. His house had lots of stuff. His room had lots of stuff.

Teacher turned to the right, sliding open a door to what must have been his room, a musty smell creeping forth. He set down Shinji's duffel bag and walked past him down the hall. "Go to bed now. Your studies will begin first thing in the morning." then he disappeared to the other end of the house.

Shinji wandered into his room, grimacing at the lumpy looking futon. There was a small black table in the left corner and an empty closet to his right.

Shinji turned back to the hallway and the closed door far beyond it. He reached for the panel, struggling as it got stuck along the floor. With a final push, he managed to slam it closed before falling on his rump. Something thumped along the carpet, the black SDAT player lying behind him. He twisted and picked the thing up, the wires curling between his fingers.

The plastic frame creaked as he squeezed it, skin hotter than a sun – and he cast it across the room.

He regretted it immediately, scrambling to snatch the player up as it clacked against the wall and bounced over the floor. He turned it upside down and over, making sure there were no cracks or loose wires.

It was still together. It was still whole.

Shinji pressed it to his chest, unable to keep his lips from shaking or his shoulders from trembling. With one heaving gasp, the tears started tumbling down his cheeks and he cried in an empty room with nothing but his father's SDAT for comfort.

* * *

* * *

A light _taptaptap_ pulled Shinji from his dreams, casting him bleary-eyed into the world. He sat up on the floor, one hand rubbing his eyes while the other still clutched the SDAT player tight. The tapping came again and this time his door slid open to reveal Teacher, clad in a white button long-sleeved shirt and black pants.

"Change your clothes and then we will begin your lessons," he said, sliding the door shut.

Shinji blinked, searching for his duffel bag. Finding fresh new clothes, he changed and, not really knowing where to put the dirty ones, threw them to a corner of the room. When he left, Teacher was kneeled at a low table piled with books. He motioned for Shinji to sit on the pillow across from him.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked.

Several answers came to mind, but Shinji just shook his head.

"It is a country called Germany. Since you will be living here for an extended period, you must learn the native language. Thus, in addition to your normal vocabulary and pronunciation lessons, you will start learning German as well," Teacher explained, patting one of the books on the table.

"Why do I have to live here?"

"Because it has been deemed necessary. No more questions now."

Shinji wanted to ask lots of questions, but Teacher waved them away as he was busied with the book full of not-right characters, where he learned how to say 'good morning' in German. But his pronunciation, as Teacher said, required extensive work. He wasn't sure what that meant, but Teacher didn't look pleased with him when he said the weird words.

It seemed to take forever for the sun to crawl up into this other sky, so long he could have sworn another day had passed by while his stomach grumbled. Teacher made soup that tasted like ash and syrup. At least, that's what he imagined ash and syrup would taste like together. It did little for his hunger and afterwards Teacher gave him permission to play outside.

Shinji stepped out of the front door, where several gray stones sat among a small sea of white rocks. Beyond that there were boulders jutting through the greenery, broken by woodchip pathways that led into bunches of trees with mossy heads of hair. Even further in there were other plants and bugs not unlike the ones at home. He was glad, however, to see the horned beetles were missing.

In the distance, on high and lording over it all, was the stone house that stood like a castle.

His right hand tightened around the SDAT and he marched forward, cautiously, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble. He ventured down one of the safer looking paths, set wider apart than the others and lined with cobblestones.

The plants became stranger and stranger as he went. Narrow things with flat leaves, or stubbier ones with sharp stalks and pointy frills. The flowers were what really took his breath away – so many and in more colors than he even knew existed. Some looked like the water birds with the long legs that bent backwards, while others appeared to be balls of honeycomb. His nose began to itch with the plethora of new smells, becoming red and stuffy again.

The earth started to slope down and the pathway became less defined, giving way to wandering roots. Thin, spindly white trees stretched up higher than he could see into the canopies above, while a sea of orange ferns grew around the base of their trunks. A wind darted through the garden, clacking branches together and making the woods creak.

The foliage rustled further down the path and Shinji froze – jumping as a snake slithered onto the overgrown trail, its body slick and black. The thing seemed not to notice him as he staggered back, relieved it was heading in the opposite direction further into the valley.

The call of his name echoed over the garden and Shinji couldn't run fast enough back to his new house. He had not strayed far, and Teacher was waiting at the door to usher him in.

That night Shinji was in his room again, straining his ears for familiar sounds. The legions of cicadas had gone silent while a handful of crickets chirped, barely discernible over the humming of the frogs and their warbling voices. They'd never been this noisy at home.

 _Home_. He thought, wondering about his things and his bed and his toys. His favorite had been a black armored Samurai who went to space to fight aliens, but didn't age like other people did. In the show, he fought for so long that his home planet changed to become alien to him, while everyone there forgot about him and the battles he fought.

Shinji had ripped its arms and legs off in a fit. Was it still there, broken up on his bed? He wished he had brought it with him, but he didn't know how to fix it. Was that why he'd been sent away? Because he broke things?

A feeling like ice water spiraled down his back and he sat down, hugging his knees close. That must have been it. No one would want a boy who broke things. That's why he'd been sent away to this... other place, far away. The thought made his lips quiver, a warm sting touching his cheeks. He wished he knew how to fix himself. Maybe then his father would let him go back home.

The door to his room slid open and Teacher was there, standing over him. "You mustn't cry, Shinji. You must be a good boy from now on."

Little Shinji nodded, trying to wipe away his tears.

* * *

* * *

Despite his best attempts, Shinji had barely slept. Everything hurt and he was tired and his eyes burned and he hated this place. But Teacher didn't care. It was time for lessons.

The minutes stretched by and the lessons seemed harder. When he started to throw a fit, Teacher whacked his knuckles with a ruler. Shinji felt the sting on his cheek too, from when...

He behaved himself the rest of the day and as the sun started to sink, he was given an hour to himself before they resumed. He stood outside the small house again, the white rocks warm on his bare feet. An endless forest stretched out before him, bustling with birds and bugs. The snake from yesterday came to mind. He'd never seen one before outside of picture books. All he knew was that he didn't like them. This one had not been a very big one – and didn't have the rattle or patterned colors like in Teacher's books, all shimmering black scales as dark as night.

SDAT secured once more in his pocket, Shinji ventured forth, trying to remember the trail he had taken last afternoon. The walk was longer than before and as he wandered into the valley that had no flowers, he began to think he was lost.

He'd read stories like this, of children lured deep into the forests by spirits, never to be seen again. Here, the calls of the birds faded to echoes, and the fire-gold ferns seemed endless. He froze, straining his ears. The quiet was what told him he was in the right place. The ghostly white trees were like sentinels in the grove, keeping any that might have found shelter within their branches at bay.

He wanted to run, to just curl up and listen to his SDAT and dream the rest of the day away. But running would mean he would have to go back to that tiny house. Running would mean he would have to face Teacher and more lessons. Frowning, Shinji stepped into the grove, cautious – flinching at the crack of a branch or the squealing chitter of a squirrel. A whispering breeze chased the sun-baked air from the glade, shaking life into the still ferns along the forest floor.

The black snake slithered free and Shinji's heart stuck in his throat, its beat thundering in his ears.

The serpent wiggled into the valley and Shinji almost lost it as he gave chase, careful not to make much noise and scare it off. Could snakes even get scared? It came into view again, a shadow moving between the shrubs and roots. As if sensing him it began to move faster, winding in that unnatural way off the beaten paths of mulch and pebbles.

Shinji crashed through a scratchy bushel that snagged his shirt and went tumbling, elbows scuffing as they scraped across stone. He groaned, pushing his now aching body up. He couldn't lose the snake.

Shinji made it to his knees, searching, frantic – but it was gone. His small fist smacked into the stone.

Soon he stood and brushed off, new bruises coloring his knuckles. The flowers here changed to tints and shades of color unlike the bright, exotic hues near his house. Roses, he recalled, noticing the red ones right away. They skirted the edges of a wide stone walkway, stacked in front of one another, neat and ordered. The towering trunks sheltering the rest of the garden were absent, leaving the blue sky open and bare. Dark, pointed trees guarded the edges of the expanse and further back he could see a small dome with pillars, the castle having grown some in the background.

He meandered along the path, where roses on high bushes were perched atop their stalks. They made a series of rings around fountain bowls sprinkling water into a pond. Like a whisper, a sliver of color at the edge of sight called his eye. He was looking at the roses like before, but there was one flower that wasn't quite right. It had a green stalk and violet shades for its long, hanging frills struggling to grow within the gaps between the roses – which encased it in a cage of thorn-laced vines.

Lying next to the strange flower was something brown, white fluff sticking out of its torn chest. It was so stained and dirtied, he might never have noticed it was there if he'd just passed right by. Shinji picked the thing up and realized it was a monkey, or at least it used to be, before getting dirty and ripped up.

He looked around, trying to find its owner. They must have been worried over it. Looking up towards the castle, he saw a shadow in one of the windows. It was hard to tell since he was so far away, but he could have sworn he saw a brief wisp of flame.

* * *

* * *

It still smelled funny in Germany, thick and pungent, every intake hitting his nostrils with the force of a hurricane. Shinji sniffed, curling a little tighter in his small sanctuary, a squared out depression thick with soft grass. Most of the metal roof and walls had been worn away until sage and red splotches spattered what remained. The light from the sun still had difficulty reaching down through the thick branches high above.

It was quieter here and farther from the castle with the girl and the screaming.

Teacher said he was not allowed to go to the big house. Probably because he was broken. That was why he was sent to this garden with no one in it. He had been bad and now he was being punished.

Sometimes, though, he would find his way towards it. Where the garden ended and the wood and stone platforms began. Sometimes, when he was there just looking up at the massive building, he heard a girl's voice echoing through what must have been grand halls. Maybe the girl he'd seen before?

Face quirking, he fished out the SDAT and poked a bud in each ear.

 _Red hair_.

No one had red hair. She must have been a forest spirit. Only spirits had colored hair. But why did she live in the house? And why did she wear a dress? Ghosts didn't wear dresses... at least not like that. Ghosts were ugly too... and she wasn't ugly at all.

It didn't really matter all that much. Why would anyone up there care what he was doing down here? Still, he wished he had someone to play with. The only real playmate he had was the snake – and it was no playmate at all. More of an adversary, really. Maybe the reason no one came into the garden was because of the snake. Maybe they were afraid of it.

That _must_ be it.

As another day passed Shinji formulated what was, for a soon to be five-year-old, a brilliant plan. To begin, he set up a listening post from which to watch the snake. During his hour of recess, he went into the valley with the ghost trees, waiting for the slithering thing to appear. At the same time everyday it would come chasing out of the sunset ferns and travel down the narrow dirt path – up and out of the grove.

Shinji never chased it. Last time he followed it he'd gotten lost in those stone ruins by the castle. Yet it became more infuriating than anything to simply watch the snake. It was as though it were taunting him, smug in its assurance that he could neither catch it nor keep pace with it.

Shinji would show that stupid snake.

After perhaps a week, he was ready for the serpent when it wriggled free of the ferns, hiding behind one of the birch trees. Shinji pounced, fingers poised to snare the slithering creature. It moved like lightning, bolting beyond his falling trajectory before his hands even met the dirt. Even as it glided over the ground side to side, it didn't seemed perturbed by the incident in the slightest. Not even so much as an annoyed hiss. That just brought a snarl to Shinji's face.

The boy scrambled to his feet and ran after its black form. It only moved faster, darting between the plants in clever zig-zags. He chased it to no avail until his lungs stung from heaving breaths and his sides ached and his legs screamed for rest. Foliage smacked his face, branches snagging his clothes.

Shinji's foot thwacked against something hard and he fell flat on his stomach. Pain pulsed through his left knee, arms matted with dirt. He groaned, looking for the cause of his fall, before realizing the SDAT had skittered from his pocket.

It sat under the crux of a gnarled root, crumpled and oozing sap. He snatched it up quickly, lest the tree steal it from him. He searched the clearing for the snake – but it was gone, _again_.

Shinji blinked, craning his neck as he looked about. He hadn't been to this part of the garden yet. Thistles and thorn bushes closed off the clearing, wrapping around the other trees and plants to consume them in their biting embrace. All except the tree in the middle of the clearing, which they gave a wide berth.

The thing could have been from another planet for all its strangeness, twisting up as though it were made of huge roots and vines that curled around one another. Not a proper trunk at all. Its stubby branches reached out in jagged arcs, tiny leaves gathered around bunches of small purple-black balls. He blinked, grimacing as he tried to remember the things mother used to pick off the trees for him –

Apples!

These, however, looked nothing like apples.

Shinji collapsed by the base of the tree, legs too weak to hold him up anymore. His lungs were still starving for air and he obliged as best he could, wondering just how lost he was now. The snake had escaped him too. He'd done his best and even then he couldn't catch it!

As his expression twisted, he slapped his hands over his face, sliding them up into his hair and pulling. A frustrated growl clawed through his teeth before he let his hands fall into his lap.

"Du weinst viel."

Shinji jumped so fast he was sure his heart had popped out of his throat.

He edged back, wide-eyed gaze fixed upon the yokai-girl standing at the other side of the tree, hands on her hips. Those strange eyes were staring at him and he felt himself shrink.

"W-what?" he stuttered.

The girl's brow scrunched and her lips pouted. When he just stared – wishing his legs weren't frozen – her cheeks reddened and for a moment Shinji thought she might burst.

"Cry – a lot," she said, pointing at him.

Shinji wilted, perplexed all the same. He understood the words, but they didn't sound like they were supposed to. "No I don't," he said, rubbing his fists over his eyes, just to be sure there weren't any tears. There were.

The girl didn't seem to understand what he said and he wished he could speak her weird sounds. Why didn't everyone say the same things? Maybe then she would want to play with him. Did she know he was broken?

The girl only stared, as if wary. Shinji fidgeted, now wishing she would go away. Instead, the girl stepped over the gnarled roots and shoved him. He fell to his back, anger tightening his veins only to start shivering with cold as the girl stood over him, icy blue eyes glaring.

"Wer bist du?!" she demanded. Shinji quirked his head and made a questioning sound, which only seemed to make her angrier. The girl leaned over to poke his chest – hard. "Nah-meh?" she asked. It took him a moment because she said it so funny, but then he realized–

"S-Shinji," he squeaked.

She stood straight again, a finger touching her chin as she looked up. "Sh-in-ji," she repeated, nodding as she tested the name. Then, without warning, she snatched him by the wrist, drawing out a yelp as she tugged him to his feet. She was strong for a girl. He let himself be pulled along as she weaved a path back into the garden.

When she stopped, he almost sent both of them flailing. Her eyes scanned him up and down, ferocious and alive. Then, still holding his arm, she jabbed a thumb at herself and declared, "Asuka!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. This was made with the utmost dedication to the characters, and lots of coffee.
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> Du weinst veil: You cry alot.  
> Wer bist du? Who are you?


	2. Grafted

* * *

**Chapter 2: Grafted**

* * *

Shinji hadn't seen her for six days.

At least, he thought it had been six days. He still had trouble telling time and six days seemed like long enough, even if it felt more like sixty-eight and a million. The sun seemed to stay out longer too, just to taunt him. He had asked Teacher about the girl one more time just the other day and as retribution was made to endure lessons past his bedtime. Sometimes he wished he could squish Teacher's head between his fingers. It was stuffy and stifling here and he didn't know anyone. Why had he been sent to this country?

 _Because you're broken, dummy_. _That's why Asuka doesn't want to play with you anymore_. There really wasn't any other explanation. She probably thought he was simple and stupid, but that was okay. He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't run away. Where would he even run to? If his father didn't want a broken boy, who in the world would?

The slap of a book drew his eyes up, finding Teacher's stern expression. "I suppose we will break for now, since you are clearly preoccupied."

"Sorry Teacher," he said.

Teacher only grunted, standing to make himself tea. He made tea a lot. Shinji wobbled to his feet, glancing from his room and then the door. Even the heavy, choking air brought by the scorching sun held more appeal than his empty room. He struggled to push the front door open, bringing a hand up to shield his eyes as he stepped out.

A rock cracked into his head.

"Ow!" his hand flew up to grab the wound, head swinging side to side to find his attacker.

"Ich hab dich!" Asuka cheered, grinning.

Shinji almost forgot how much that hurt, water gathering at his eyes. He rubbed the spot sullenly, inspecting his hand for blood. There was a little.

"Sei kein Baby!" Asuka snapped, stomping a foot. At his befuddled look, she squeezed her eyes shut before saying, "you're a boy – ja?"

Shinji thought about picking up a handful of rocks and throwing them at her. But... she was a girl. Boys weren't supposed to hurt girls.

"Du kriegst mich nicht!" she sang, turning on her heels into the garden.

He ran after her, struggling to keep pace as she wove through the garden, disregarding the paths entirely. For a moment, he lost sight of her and panic bolted his heart, until he burst through one of the bushes and tumbled into a clearing. Groaning as he stood up in a cloud of dust, he found Asuka standing in front of the ugly tree they had first met at. Brushing his shirt down, he stumbled closer. A question started to form before the girl dashed forward, scrambling up the tree trunk.

"Asuka!" he cried, worry and excitement lacing his limbs as she wedged her hands into the knots to pull herself up. She was really close to the– the not-apples.

"What are those?" he asked.

She sent him a scowl, eye lids fluttering as though she were trying to figure out what he had said. She reached for the next branch. "Olives dummko–" she missed and slipped, hitting the ground with a loud _thud_ and a puff of dust.

Shinji started, only to stop halfway. The branches weren't very high, at least not like most of the other trees. What should he do? She rolled over with a pout that made him think of turning tail to find Teacher, but, if she was hurt...

"Stupid Shinji!" she yelled, rubbing her arm and seemingly on the brink of tears. "Du hättest mich auffangen sollen!"

He stiffened. "B-but I–"

She let loose a growl. "You're annoying," she said with a frown, opening her hand to reveal a few of the greenish olives in her palm, now a little squished. He eyed them suspiciously as the girl split one in half, digging a black pebble out and tossing it away before eating the mangled skin. It made his mouth water and he inched closer.

When she noticed, she closed her hand and turned to hide them. "Mine."

Shinji grimaced, but by the look on her face, he wouldn't be convincing the girl to share anytime soon. He looked to the tree and the nearby brush, spotting exactly what he needed. He snatched a long stick from the ground and, tongue pinched between his lips, reached up on his tippy toes to swing the branch at the hanging olives. Three more times he repeated the process, jumping on the third strike and causing a whole bundle to fall free. The bottom ones were dirtied, but the ones on the top looked tasty enough and he only had to rub them on his shirt a little.

Asuka looked down at her handful of olives and then back to his arguably larger catch.

She scooted over to where he crouched, shooting him a threatening glare when he opened his mouth. He picked one that was a deep red, doing like Asuka had done and ripping out the hard black thing inside. Before he could put it in his mouth, Asuka gave him a serious look and leaned close enough for her hair to try and stick to his sweaty face. "Zuerst schmeckts eklig. Also nicht ausspucken," she said.

He made a questioning grunt and Asuka poked her cheek, face pinching. "Taste bad – chew."

It tasted bad? He couldn't imagine why she would be eating them if that was the case. Either way he was far too curious to not do it now. So, he tossed the olive in his mouth and chomped.

His tongue shrank in on itself. A cheek burning flavor, worse than the black coffee he'd once snuck a sip of, turning rancid and shriveling his mouth to ash. It was so dry he might as well have been eating a fistful of grass! He wanted to spit it out, but a hand clamped over his mouth, planted there by Asuka.

"Chew," she commanded.

Face puckering, tears welled at the edges of his eyes – and not because he was sad, for once. A full minute went by as he chewed and the harsh, biting taste started to fade. His mouth felt slick and the throat tingling bitterness still wouldn't leave, yet the olive began to taste well... not quite so bitter. It nearly tasted sweet, like a hint of it as he swallowed, a sour touch disappearing with the remnants of olive. Asuka removed her hand as he did so and he smarted from the lingering aftertaste that hung about his mouth, clinging to the inside of his teeth. Like when his breath smelled really bad in the morning before he brushed.

Asuka smirked as he eyed another of the olives, popping one nonchalantly in her mouth.

They sat together and ate from the olive tree, fingers and shirts smeared and slick with their oils, mouths stained blue, until it was time for Shinji to return to his lessons.

The days proceeded more or less so.

Sometimes Asuka would come and find him, either waiting at the door to his house or throwing pebbles at his bedroom window in the afternoon. Play usually consisted of king of the hill – and Asuka always won. Victorious, she would claim he should be better at wrestling because he was a boy. He couldn't disagree. Other times they would see who could climb the olive tree the fastest. She always won that too.

Eventually, Asuka stopped waiting on him and invited herself into their house whenever she pleased, much to Teacher's displeasure. After a talk with her father – the man he'd met his first day – Asuka came in only when Shinji was allowed to play. Some days she wasn't there at all and others she was only outside for a few minutes. But as the months passed by, he grew used to the exotically haired girl and her mysterious house and the big garden, at times forgetting about his father far away.

He never saw the black snake again either, wondering if he'd merely been imagining it the whole time.

* * *

* * *

The dirt was cool between his fingers, a soft golden yellow mingling with the stubborn chunks of brown earth that hid it. Skin stained up to his elbows, Shinji continued to dig, using his fingers to shovel the now loose dirt up into a mound that nearly reached his chest. It needed to be bigger.

He gathered yet another armful atop the mound, sand collecting around his filthy knees. The thorn bushes cracked 'round the side of the olive tree and Shinji tensed, waiting for a flash of black scales by the roots. Instead, Asuka stepped out from behind the trunk, wearing a dark blue dress with a big red bow around her stomach. He quirked his face at that, but didn't ask about it. Talking was too hard sometimes since they didn't speak the same.

When she saw him, she just stayed by the tree's big roots, making him feel, like always, very small with those staring eyes. He glanced down at himself – yellow shirt marred with grass stains and smudges of dirt, nails and fingers utterly caked with it. His gray shorts with the big pockets he liked fared no better. Asuka, on the other hand, was not at all dirty. Her long hair was neat and brushed and tied back in twin tails.

"Why you here?" she asked. At least, that's what he assumed she had asked, pronouncing the words in that weird drawn-out way. He shrugged and gestured with splayed hands to his crumbling dirt castle.

Asuka bit her lower lip as she stood straight, arms tight to her sides. She looked to the trees and foliage around them, throwing her hands out and spinning. She set her bright blue eyes on him expectantly. He cast his gaze about, mouth making a big O. His focus fell to his half-finished mountain, fingers sinking into the dirt. "I don't know."

"What you mean?" she asked in muddled Japanese, making him bite back a snicker. Nostrils flaring, her hands squeezed into fists. "Bist du dumm?"

His mirth vanished. He hadn't learned what most of her words meant and she always talked slower when speaking his. But by her tone it probably wasn't something nice that she'd said.

"I have to live here. My dad says so," he answered, pushing a hand through the dirt and collapsing the upper half of the mound. The chunks spilled over into the trenches he'd dug, half covering the tiny roots that had been exposed in his excavations. Asuka didn't say anything and Shinji looked at the mess of his work. The idea he'd had when he started was shattered. He couldn't even remember what it was supposed to be anymore. He could try rebuilding it by himself, but the more he stared at it, the more hopeless the task seemed.

Asuka's shoes scuffed across the ground as she fell to her knees on the other side of the mound. Sitting up, she twisted her bow so that it was on her back instead. "Like this," she said, bending and scooping some of the dirt out of the trenches. He watched as her hands padded the dirt ever higher, shifting and swiping at it to make a smooth surface.

He started grabbing handfuls of dirt too and they quietly worked on the mound, staining their clothes and smearing their arms and faces with streaks of black. They made it perfect, all four sides inclining to a sharp point like the pyramids he'd seen in Teacher's books.

Asuka brushed her hands off on the ends of her dress, rising to a crouch with her knees together, hands resting on them as she appraised their efforts.

The birds and bugs sounded their calls in the late afternoon, and the sky was fading to a deep blue, streaks of white left behind by whining planes. In the days that followed, one way or another, they would always find themselves in the secret spot by the olive tree, eating fruit that no one else ate and building their own worlds together.

* * *

* * *

Shinji shivered as another soft, chilling wind swept through the trees and tickled his neck and arms. The sun was still bright and burning, yet the gardens welcomed a low breeze. He threw another rock, this time managing to skip it three times across the water, though it missed the stone statue by a wide arc. Pinching his tongue between his lips, he prepared another rock.

There was shouting and the toss went wide – again. Shinji turned to the source, sighting the taller spires of the mansion over the cherry trees. Answered by silence as he searched, he started to slink towards the back patio and did his utmost to be stealthy. It had been made law his first day that he wasn't allowed to leave the garden – yes, Teacher had made that very clear. So as long as he stayed within the border, there was no way he could get in trouble.

But Asuka hadn't been out to the gardens for several days now, maybe she would be just outside the mansion. He reached the edge of the treeline to see the house in full, just as a familiar girl burst out of an open back door.

"I don't want another stupid doll!" she cried.

Someone unseen called after her, stopping Shinji from doing the same. She disappeared into the dizzying array of flowers and tall ferns. He knew that side of the garden – that was where the rose bushes were. Frowning, Shinji entered the comparatively sparse part of the terraced plants, flanked by marble pillars and pointy Cypruses. He walked carefully, keeping a sharp eye out for Asuka. He found her in a wide ring of sandstone bordered by crimson roses, at the center of which was a fountain with a square pool. She had her back to him, staring into the bubbling waters. Inching forward, he approached her as one might approach a lion.

"A-Asuka?"

Her hair whipped as she spun to meet him. "What do _you_ want?"

He flinched. "I, uh... a-are you... okay?" he asked in a small voice. Her expression fell and she showed him her back, while his eyes met the stones at his feet. The thought of leaving twitched his hands, though he couldn't get his legs to move.

"Asuka?" He reached out to touch her. As if sensing his closeness, she tensed.

"No!" she screamed, turning and shoving him.

Shinji tripped, rosebush thorns ripping down his right arm as he fell. He hissed, struggling to sit up in the dirt as deep red streaks snaked down to his elbow, arm throbbing with fire.

Asuka's eyes went wide.

"Go away!" she shouted, dashing beyond the borders of the garden and leaving Shinji alone, his blood seeping into the earth around a foreign purple flower.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was part of Chapter 1, which ended up being rather long, so these sequences earned their own chapter. Thanks for reading. This was made with the utmost dedication to the characters, and lots of coffee.
> 
> Author's Notes:
> 
> Ich hab dich! I got you!  
> Sei kein baby! Stop being a baby!  
> Du kriegst mich nicht! Can't catch me!  
> Du hättest mich auffangen sollen! You should have caught me!  
> Es wird schlimm ersten Geschmack, nicht ausspucken: It'll taste bad first, don't spit it out.  
> Bist du dumm? Are you stupid?


	3. Amaranthus

**Chapter 3: Amaranthus**

* * *

Shinji's fifth birthday came and went, and in another few months he would be six. Nothing special. The only reason he'd known the day had come around at all was because Teacher made rice balls with pickled plum filling, muttering a simple "congratulations". The rolls were much sweeter than the olives from the tree and he imagined Asuka might have liked that.

For a while, he had wandered the gardens alone, excitement blossoming in him as a flare of red caught his eye, only to wilt as he realized it was just a flower or some other plant. After pushing him into the rosebush, she'd disappeared from the world, making him wonder if he'd imagined her like the black snake.

Shinji would look longingly to the mansion he was not allowed near, thinking he might catch a glimpse of her in the windows and hoping she hadn't been sent to some far away place too. Eventually, he stopped exploring the garden and stayed near his small house, with his father's black cased SDAT there to fill his days. Old Japanese pop danced in the trees and pulsed through the clouds, while he contemplated the thin white line that ran down his wrist and to his elbow.

On a particularly muggy day, he'd been sitting on the front porch waiting for the time to ebb away when the garden called to him. The sun had been burning the white rocks at his feet and the beech tree leaves shimmered with light. SDAT in hand, he started walking along a familiar path, painted with jagged patchworks of shade, until he came to the gray-green olive tree. He stood in the small clearing around it, sun beating against him and throwing up waves of heat that made him squint. The chirping screams of the cicadas grew louder.

That was when he saw her.

She'd gotten a little taller since last time, leaning against the trunk and looking at the ground. Thinking it must have been some sort of trick of the sun, he pulled the buds from his ears, blinking. When she realized he was there, surprise touched her expression, but was quickly swept away under a sullen mask. He fidgeted and considered leaving, gripping his SDAT tight. Her blue eyes held him in place, until she turned to face him fully and marched forward.

All he could do was stand there, trembling while his right arm throbbed.

Then, she flicked him in the nose. "Tag – you're it!"

He jumped and the girl ran back to the tree, spinning around to face him with a challenging smirk – as if it hadn't been months since she'd been away. Like they'd been with each other all along. His mouth fell open, closing as determination took hold and set him off after her.

All at once the days weren't so lonely anymore.

They climbed, argued over dirt mounds, and inevitably started throwing mud clods at one another. Which was innocent enough unless he got it in her hair. She'd slap him and scratch him, shrieking threats in German he had yet to learn. Then he'd retreat to the pond behind his house to nurse his wounds, where she would eventually find him, guarded but no less angry. She never apologized and he never demanded it of her, and their close proximity would quickly devolve into a scuffle to push one another in the water with the fish. He had succeeded only once, and caught a rock in the face immediately after.

They didn't fight so much after that, and Asuka insisted putting bandaids on the wound herself, berating him for not dodging.

Speaking German gradually became easier. But every time he thought he had a good idea of how to say things, they learned something new that completely changed how he was supposed to say them. Asuka started speaking more and more Japanese during his stay on the Langley estate, which was nice. At least his words were _already_ easy, unlike hers, which made his throat hurt sometimes.

Ever since he'd found her again, they'd rarely spent a day apart. Well – except today. Perhaps she was locked away in her castle again? Shinji couldn't be sure if that was actually the case, as he never knew what went on behind those big oak doors. Come to think of it, he had never seen much of Herr Langley since arriving either.

Venturing into the rose garden, it was then he realized there was a side to the house he'd neglected to explore. Around the bend, guided by white flowered trellises, were cordoned off boxes packed with dark soil, making neat rows in the shadow of their mansion.

Herr Langley was bent over one of these, the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to the elbows. A skinny sort of man with broad shoulders and a tired posture, graying hair cut short and neat. Asuka was beside him wearing that blue dress again, diamond earrings glittering in the sunlight.

For Shinji's part, shorts and a dirty sleeveless shirt were pretty much it.

Langley caught sight of him, a grin attempting to tug at his mouth, but coming out as a displeased grimace. With a nod, he signaled Shinji over and the boy approached, nervously. Asuka was glaring at him. He tried for a smile and was studiously ignored.

"Here, look," Langley said, black smudged fingers carving out narrow lines in the dark earth. He instructed each of them to hold out their hands.

"We're going to plant some radishes," he said, pouring seeds into their palms. Then they sprinkled them into the hand-carved fissures, soon spreading the dirt back over them and matting it gently. He let Asuka water the dirt and she tossed some at Shinji, smiling impishly when he frowned and sticking her tongue out.

"What are you doing?" Langley demanded, taking it back. "Don't be so careless."

Asuka's expression was snatched away with it and she put her hands behind her back. "Sorry, papa," she mumbled, though he didn't seem to have heard her. Flecks of brown fell as he brushed his hands off on his black pants, motioning them to follow. Shinji stayed a few paces behind, watching as Asuka's body went rigid every moment he strayed too close.

All about there were other vegetables and plants he didn't have names for, some with bushy heads or thick vines. Shinji didn't have time to ponder them as Langley brought them back into the rose garden, naming each flower and where it came from instead. _Rosa_ , white pink and mulberry shades from North Africa. _Gallicanae_ , crimson roses from western Asia and Europe. _Hesperrhodos_ , a yellow flower from North America – his favorite.

Then, just beyond the roses were these bunches of tiny pink buds, some darkening to a soft purple. Asuka gasped when she saw them, gliding her fingers through their many petals. That made Herr Langley chuckle.

"These are Lilacs," he said, plucking one and fitting it into Asuka's hair by an ear. "They were your mother's favorite."

Shinji wondered what _his_ mother's favorite flowers had been. Maybe the cherry blossoms back home?

 _Home_. That place wasn't home anymore. He couldn't even imagine it – what the walls looked like, how it had smelled. All he managed to picture was broken glass and pain. Besides, she wasn't here anymore and there weren't any cherry blossoms in Germany. None that he knew of.

He wanted to go home.

It spoke to him in a whisper then, that accent of reddish purple, flowers hanging from its stalks like moss. He stumbled as he walked to it, falling to his hands and knees. The stones scuffed his shins, but he could see under the rose bushes where a small, lone bundle of flowers struggled for light between them. This was the flower he'd fallen by when Asuka had pushed him, his blood long since absorbed into the soil and washed away by the rains.

Footsteps scratched against the stone as Langley knelt behind him. Asuka peered over Shinji's shoulder, touching the lilac so it stayed in her hair.

"Amaranthus," Langley said, brow knitting. "I'm not sure what it's doing in the rose garden..."

Asuka touched Shinji to steady herself, trying to catch a whiff of it. "It's pretty," she said, nose scrunching. He tried to smell it too, but found only the honey-sweet scent of the roses.

Langley nodded. "The color never fades, even when the flower dies. Love-Lies-Bleeding they call it in America." his calloused fingers reached out, letting the fluffy tendrils slide over his fingers. It was slow and gentle, a parting touch as the tip of it slipped free, swaying from his grasp. His face fell, eyes becoming glassy as the light seeped out of them. In a moment, Shinji saw his father kneeling there instead.

Langley stood, turning to walk back to the castle without a word. Perplexed, panicked, Asuka struggled to catch up, tugging onto his pants leg.

"I want to see more flowers papa," she said, practically demanding.

He sighed, tugging free. "No. Not today."

Slipping from her grasp, he left them standing by the fountain. Asuka stared long after he disappeared into the house. Shinji hauled himself up, trading glances between the Amaranthus and Asuka. Why did they give such a pretty plant such a sad name?

"Your dad's nice," he said.

"Be quiet," Asuka snipped. "This is your fault anyway."

She tugged something from a pigtail and started off. He moved to follow, her name on the tip of his tongue, when something feathery crunched under foot, the lilac from her hair now stamped flat into the stone.

* * *

* * *

Shinji didn't know how he found her or what led him there, maybe because it was one of the few places he had come to make his own in the past year, a distant shelter away from Teacher and the castle. The old shed stuck out, sore and rotted at the edge of the garden. On the other side of which were sprawling dandelion fields, disrupted here and there by thin bundles of trees.

A big, golden brown dog, floppy ears and black nose, was attacking Asuka. Why was she laughing? He'd already started running to her as fast as his almost-six-year-old legs could manage, when he realized the dog was only licking her.

Asuka rolled onto her belly at the crunch of grass, smiling face swept away at the very sight of him. Was it really that bad, just looking at him? He hadn't meant for her dad to leave. How was it his fault anyway? It was because he'd found that weird flower, wasn't it?

He was always messing things up.

Asuka sat up, her back to him, and dug her fingers behind the dog's ears, bowing her head to one side so he couldn't lick her face. Cicadas screamed, basking in a heat that swallowed up any cooling breezes there might've been. He should have left, he knew. He didn't have a mom or dad, or a dog and a nice house with a huge colorful garden. That was why Asuka didn't like him. They were different. _He_ was different. Even her dad got sad just being around him. It seemed to be the only thing Shinji was able to do.

Still, the waves of sunlight radiating across the fields of yellow kept his feet snug in the grass. The weeds snared his legs, pulling him down to their warmth.

"I didn't know you had a dog," he said after a sudden rush of wind.

"He's not my dog," she said, in place of yelling or scratching. She patted the pup's shoulders. "I call him _Panzer_."

The unfamiliar word rang through one ear and out the other. "What's that mean?"

Asuka stuttered, grasping for the word in Japanese. "Tank."

"Tank," he repeated, nodding. It wasn't anything he would have named a dog, though sounded right all the same.

It was a golden retriever, the neighbor's dog, often coming to visit the garden and the red haired girl that gave him treats and pets – or so she explained. Shinji approached the two, keeping a good foot between him and Tank. He'd never seen a dog this close before, or teeth that could probably rip his arm off.

"You can pet him," Asuka said, as if he needed her permission. He just–

The girl grabbed his hand and shoved it into Tank's fur and Shinji froze – what else could you do when you were about to be torn to pieces? No such punishment came and instead the retriever began coating his entire face in saliva.

From then on, if they weren't by the olive tree, they were playing tag with Tank out in the fields. Asuka taught him how to fetch, using a five-year-old boy in place of sticks. No matter how fast Shinji would run, how expertly he'd juke, one way or another Tank would snag him by the shoulder of his shirt and dutifully drag him back to Asuka.

Herr Langley never came out to check on the radishes again. Sometimes Gepard, the groundskeeper, would amble by and water them, while he and Asuka watched from the fountain near the roses.

Weeks after, Shinji followed her voice through the trees, drawn by the unusual call in the gardens.

"Taaank! Taaank!"

The dog always answered to this special name. Now, he was nowhere to be found and both of them had to wonder if the family living in the pastures beyond the hill had moved. They discovered as much was true later from Herr Langley.

Asuka hadn't cried and had even asked her father for a dog of her own. Langley promised to do so if she was good.

For the next few weeks she towed Shinji out by the old shed and the dandelion fields, where they waited for Tank to appear over the hill. For a while Asuka wasn't quite so angry at him and taught him how to make circlets out of the flowers in the fields, demanding he make one for her each afternoon. She wore them when he finished and left them behind when night came crawling.

Her father kept promising and promising. "Soon, Asuka, you have to be patient," he said with a knit brow, shooing her out of the house. Eventually, when it began to settle in that Tank was gone for good, Asuka stopped looking to the hill, nor demanded he make flower circlets for her.

Herr Langley never did keep his promise.

* * *

* * *

Shinji's front teeth were missing.

He kind of thought he would lose them to Asuka at some point, but these had fallen out on their own. They'd been loose for the past week and he had assumed the problem would sort itself out eventually. It had, in a way. When he presented his fallen teeth to Teacher, on the brink of tears, the man had explained this was only natural.

Asuka had lost most of her teeth when she was four, before they met, the last one being the gap where her lower center tooth had been. Part of the reason she didn't grin so much now, prompting a stage of near-silent communication between them. Mostly because she kept making fun of him for the way his words whistled without his front teeth. She'd even made a game out of getting him to talk, usually by prodding him with sharp sticks or pretending she was sad just to get him to ask, "what's wrong?"

So he'd given her the cold shoulder one day and she'd kicked sand in his face, furious. Even now he thought he could still taste the grit in his mouth. As he entered the foyer through the back of Asuka's castle, some sort of sitting room, he hoped it didn't make his breath smell. There was also the niggling urge to go home and wash up. He'd been playing under the olive tree – digging for worms to be exact. They liked the soil near the roots, where it was rich and moist. The water from the fountains had washed most of it off by the time he was sent for, by Asuka no less.

" _Oma-ma_ wants to see you," she'd said, in that serious way that always made him a bit frightened of her. The word sounded familiar – _grandma_?

The woman sat by the window, meeting him with a kind smile as she set her tea cup down. For an old person, she didn't have that many wrinkles, and he could tell she _must_ have been really, really old for her hair to be so white and her eyes to be so squinty.

"So," she began, folding her hands in her lap. "You are the boy who's been keeping my little Asuka company."

" _Oma_ ," the girl said it like a warning, having sat herself in the chair to his right and trying to look taller with her back straight. "He's not keeping me company... he's just some boy..." she muttered, throwing him a dismissive glance.

Shinji flinched, trying to keep his chin up as all manners escaped him. He bowed, stopping halfway as he realized people didn't do that in Germany. So he stood stiff at attention and stuck out his hand, hoping she didn't notice how dirty it was.

"I'm Shinji Ikari, um," he paused, trying to remember the right words, "how old are you?"

Asuka groaned, dragging a hand down her face. He'd messed up again, hadn't he?

 _Oma's_ dark eyes narrowed as her smile lifted against her high cheek bones. If she noticed how filthy he was, she didn't seem to mind, taking his small fingers in her withered, liver-spotted hand.

"You may call me Ilka and I am seventy-nine, _junger_ Shinji," she leaned a little closer to whisper, "though most might consider it impolite to ask a lady how old she is."

It took him a moment to absorb what she'd said as she patted his hand and released her hold. He took a step back, nodding. "Sorry."

"You can go away now," Asuka said, standing and sidling up next to her grandma's chair.

Ilka _tsked_. "Don't be rude, child." she said, to which Asuka pouted. Something white jiggled by her ears and Shinji realized she had pearls to match the ones hanging from Ilka's neck. Asuka wasn't clad in the usual dresses either, but instead wore a deep, oak leaf green that seemed just a little too big on her.

"Shinji," the elder said, putting her back straight, "why don't you run off and wash up? Asuka and I will be along shortly."

Shinji did so, free from Asuka's glares and the stuffy smells – it didn't feel right. He didn't belong there. He was just some boy.

The two came by his tiny house in the garden, though avoided going inside. Grandma Ilka spared Teacher little more than a cursory glance and he lent her much the same. A brief frown came to her lips as she took in his simple Japanese-inspired dwelling. It wasn't really much of a house, but more of a shack with extra rooms. Shinji preferred it that way. What would he do in a big house that didn't have lots of people? Wouldn't that be lonely?

Really, he wasn't any less alone here. He supposed it didn't really matter where someone lived when no one wanted them. It didn't feel good, but he was starting to get used to the idea.

Even if she didn't like where he lived out in the Langley's beautiful garden, Grandma Ilka was nothing but kind and patient. She didn't know a lick of Japanese, but didn't scowl at him when he stuttered his German. In her hands she carried what sounded like metal pipes, all wrapped in brown paper. Unfurling it, six copper tubes dangled from a platform of wood and string, echoing with a hollow ring that resonated over the air, as if the notes were floating. Ilka hung them on the back porch nearest his bedroom window.

When he asked why, she said, "Because it invites good spirits to visit and keep you safe, child."

Later, she sat them by the piano and taught them how to play some of the keys, while Asuka tried to bump him off the seat without Ilka noticing. There was dust on it when they first opened the lid and it had taken a few minutes to clean. Asuka couldn't quite reach all the notes for the lullaby Ilka was teaching them, but neither could he. So she had them play the notes on their respective sides when the song demanded it.

Ilka lived far in the south by Munich, so didn't get a chance to visit often. She was there only for a brief time, gone all too soon. After she left, his friend was, in a cruel sort of way, nicer to him. Shinji was allowed every so often to play the piano, just with her and only the songs she wanted to play. That was fine. There weren't any other songs he knew how to play anyway.

However, for the night after Grandma Ilka departed, Shinji stowed his father's SDAT away. The ringing chimes at his window whisked him off to sleep, and he pretended it was his mother outside touching the bells.


	4. The Letter

**Chapter 4: The Letter**

* * *

Seven-year-old Shinji Ikari cried out as he fell hard onto his back, a pair of hands pinning his shoulders to the ground.

"I win!" Asuka shouted, grinning as she rolled off him. Rising to sit, he sniffed, something wet sliding down his upper lip. Touching a finger to his nose, he found blood and frowned as he wiped a sleeve across his face, not sure at what point in their wrestling that had happened.

When he stood, Asuka was already by the olive tree, carving a line into the trunk with a sharp rock. There were more marks down its left side than he cared to count, and over them was a big A. Across from it was a comparatively smaller S, which wore exactly 13 marks, and Asuka had definitely made sure those few victories weren't worth it. It was far easier to just lose – much fewer bruises that way.

Asuka glanced back at him and started climbing the olive tree while Shinji ran to catch up. The nooks and notches were worn and smooth from use, and they ascended to the crux in the winding trunk.

It was difficult to believe he had spent nearly three years in Germany now. It didn't even feel that long. He was definitely a little taller than he remembered, with a little less fat here and there. Then again, he'd never had much to begin with, always being a bit of a lanky boy. But this year he was actually just a little taller than Asuka, much to her chagrin.

Now, summer winds whispered through the trees, making it sound like the crash of the seashore. Asuka sat on the branch above him, feet bouncing against one another.

"I'm going to tell you a secret," she said, staring into the treetops. "A while ago, they picked me to be an elite pilot and it's really important. But if you tell _anyone_ , I'll hurt you."

The threat went unheard as Shinji's face quirked. "Pilot? Like for airplanes?"

"No, dummy!" she snapped, batting him on the head. "I can't tell you, it's secret."

Her name rang out over the garden, a call from an unseen woman beyond the trees near the castle. Asuka's face twisted and she sat straight, lingering in place for a moment.

She regarded him with a serious expression. "Don't tell anybody," she said, climbing down from the tree and only stumbling a little as she ran off towards her red brick house.

Shinji watched her disappear, rubbing his head. He didn't see what the big deal was. It wasn't like he had anyone else to talk to. What the heck was she a pilot for anyway? What else did people pilot but airplanes? Was she talking about spaceships? The more and more Shinji thought about it, the more it made his head ache.

He never really complained or put up a fight when Asuka acted so weird all the time. If he did, she might leave. Even though it had been a year since they'd started playing again, every time she went home he feared it might be the last time he ever saw her, and anxiously awaited her visits day by day.

As the sun began to set, Shinji knew it was time to return home. He made his way back through the low and humid air, his feet rattling the rocks as he stepped up to the front porch. Closing the door after himself, he set his small shoes off to the side next to Teacher's. The man grimaced as he padded into the living room, but didn't comment on his dirtied arms and grass-stained clothes. Shinji washed, bathed, and changed. As he did, he saw the SDAT player sitting on the edge of his table, cords wrapped around its frame.

He picked it up, acid spilling into his veins and burning him from the inside. He tossed it to the other side of the room, resolving to sit and do worksheets until bedtime. As equations stretched over the pages and blurred together, he kept glancing back to the SDAT where it lay by his closet.

The time bled out forever, the paper under his pencil blank, all while chimes sang outside. Shinji stood, snatched up the music player and plopped down at his desk – nestling the buds in his ears.

* * *

* * *

The morning was crisp, as it always seemed to be in Germany. The stool Shinji used to reach the kitchen counter allowed him to see out the window and into his garden. The mists had dispersed and the waking birds sang their disjointed, but harmonious chorus. The bees had begun their work early, bouncing between the fluffy white edelweiss and sunset-burned fire lilies.

"Your soup is boiling," Teacher said.

Shinji looked to him, then to the pot and yelped – turning the heat off and fumbling to add the spring onions he had cut earlier. He slid the pot off the burner, mixing everything with a wooden spoon. Teacher twitched his nose at it and gave him a look that said, 'it will have to do'.

"Sorry," Shinji said, bowing far too low.

Teacher was mute and they prepared the morning meal at the table. Miso soup, steamed rice and an omelet cooked with onions and green peppers. Once everything was laid out, he waited for Teacher to sit before doing so himself. He gave thanks, in Japanese and German, before grabbing the table's sake bottle to fill Teacher's cup. As he did, the man grabbed a white envelope from under the table and slid it across to him. It was blank save for a single red half-leaf in the upper left corner.

His face pinched and he looked up. "What is it?"

"The sake."

"Wuh– ah!" the liquid spilled over the rim of the cup, and he knocked several dishes over trying to clean up the mess.

Teacher sighed, but waited for him to finish.

"A letter from your father," he finally said, taking a moment to pinch rice from his bowl. "You may read it once we are done eating."

The miso soup was the first thing to go. It was the easiest to down without appearing indecent, with the minor consequence of practically scalding his throat. The rice, however, was more of a challenge. Shinji managed to stuff his mouth full when he thought Teacher might not notice. His portion of the omelet was soon devoured as well, but he succeeded only in finishing before Teacher did, whom he still had to wait on, as etiquette dictated.

However, despite having never looked up at him once, Teacher nodded. Shinji snatched the envelope from the table and tore it open:

**Gehirn Operations Department,  
Research and Analysis Center,  
Tokyo-3**

Director Ikari Gendo,  
To Ikari Shinji,

Under the War Measures Act 2001, you are hereby ordered to active duty for training for the period shown, which will be followed by deployment orders upon the completion of training unless sooner released or extended by proper authority.

Period: 5 years  
Report To: Gehirn Offices, Lichtenberg  
Reporting Date: RPT between 0730 & 0800 Hours. 30 August 2007  
Attached To: Joint Research Unit, E Project, Section 3  
Purpose: Third Child, Pilot

Shinji's brow scrunched, nerves tingling warmly at his neck. He flipped the paper over, searching the back. But it was just this – artificially worded and with his father's name stamped on it.

"Active duty? Training?" Shinji asked, the paper crunching in his hand. "What does this mean?"

Teacher set down his soup bowl. "It means you have a great responsibility now."

"To do... what?"

"What your father requires of you."

Shinji frowned, looking back down at the paper. He remembered what Asuka had said, something about being a pilot. But what exactly was it his father wanted him to do?

"What's... _brain_?" he asked, pointing to the German word.

Teacher didn't even look as he finished chewing a mouthful of omelet. "It is your father's work and it is for the benefit of all mankind."

"My father's work..." Shinji repeated, holding the paper before him proper again. _It isn't fair_. He thought, throat tight and burning. He pursed his lips, resisting the urge to rip the letter up into a hundred tiny pieces. Teacher disliked such useless displays of emotion.

Rocks clattered outside, followed by fading footfalls. Shinji looked up, a bit of light creeping in down the hall from the open front door.

* * *

* * *

"Time to go," Teacher said, slipping his shoes on. Shinji did the same and followed him around to the front of the mansion, where a black car was waiting for them.

The countryside melted away to sprawling suburbs and cityscape. The buildings were much taller here, glittering blue glass and powerful gray concrete. There were dozens – hundreds of people and cars. Shinji could hardly take it all in. But they only passed around the city and never reached some of the taller skyscrapers, much to his disappointment. The buildings became sparse, until they rolled into an area with huge pipes that puffed black smoke, caged by metal towers with wires and other apparatuses he didn't have names for. The car ground to a halt in front of a building he could only describe as pressed flat, flanked by tall fences with spiraling razor wire at the top.

As they got out, Shinji saw a marble tablet that read:

_Gehirn_

_Sum et, scio ut, ergo fui_

At the door, Teacher input a code and Shinji jumped as the door buzzed, drawn away by hydraulic snaps. He shivered as they entered, a wash of cold air spiraling down his shoulders and making goosebumps spread up his legs. His shoes squeaked as they stepped further in, the only noise in the whole building. There was a long white hallway that led to a window in the wall, two doors on either side of it.

Teacher handed someone on the other end some papers and they talked quietly. Shinji looked around and found a lone painting mounted on the plain beige walls. It was a strange landscape with naked people – and looked nothing like his garden. One of the people even had red hair.

A door creaked and Shinji turned to find a pale man with slicked back black hair, and glasses that made him think of an owl. The man, sparing a smile, looked to Teacher and bowed before offering his hand. His instructor bowed and then they shook. The man in white turned his dark blue-green eyes on Shinji, leaning over slightly as he spoke in German, "Good morning, little Shinji."

Shinji's face smarted. Even Asuka's dad called him _junger Herr_ now. _Young_ _Sir_ sounded way cooler than little Shinji. He was always little Shinji.

The man just smiled and his shoulders shook with a huff. "I am Doctor Adrian Lützow. Follow me, please."

Lützow opened the door and led Shinji through a labyrinth of glass panes that reached up to the ceiling, their lower halves covered with metal that warped his reflection. He was too short to see over them, so couldn't tell what was going on inside. After making a dizzying series of twists and turns down halls that felt too long, Lützow opened the door to one of the glass rooms, where a small table sat in the middle. Lützow took a seat one side, adjusting his big white coat. Shinji hesitated as the man looked to him expectantly and he glanced up at Teacher, who nodded towards the table.

Shinji climbed onto chair opposite Lützow, sitting on his knees to be higher up since the table was made for adults. In front of him were four large cubes and one small one. The Doctor had the same on his side.

"Do you like to play games, Shinji?"

He nodded.

"So do I. Would you like to play?"

Another nod.

"Okay, Shinji: I'm going to take my little cube and tap on these other cubes. When I'm done, I want you to take your cube there and copy me exactly. Can you do that? If you win our games today, I'll give you a special treat." with that, Lützow took his tiny cube and made Shinji repeat his patterns of tapping. After a little bit, it was hard to remember which ones he had tapped and in which order, but the man didn't say he'd lost – so he must have won when they finally stopped.

Lützow's pen scratched across his clipboard and the Doctor looked up at him again. "Very good, Shinji. There is one more thing before you go." He bent down nearby and set a piece of paper on the table, as well as a small box of crayons every color of his garden. "I want you to draw yourself."

Shinji's brow pinched and his lips pouted in thought as he stared at the blank paper. He glanced at the glass walls, but they were too clear for him to see himself very well. So he turned back and said, "I don't know what I look like."

Lützow smiled. "Just draw what you think you look like."

Shinji frowned, but took one of the crayons and started to draw anyway. He began with the head, of course, marking his way down to the body and glancing at his clothes a few times to check what color they were.

So focused on his task, he almost didn't notice as Teacher asked, "Why the drawing?"

Shinji lifted his head but neither of them were paying any particular attention to him. Lützow looked up from his clipboard and nodded to the paper, so Shinji went back to drawing, the Doctor's quiet voice followed soon after.

"It is to give us a general idea of his current state of mind, based on how he perceives himself. It helps us learn how he thinks and gives us clues as to why. Now keep in mind I can't tell you much without proper clearance, you understand."

Shinji's brow furrowed, thoroughly lost. He heard Teacher grunt. "Of course."

"Good, just know it will allow us to predict potential irregularities in the neural impulse system, and hopefully correct them down the line. As you can see, the small figure and lack of legs denotes instability and insecurity. Thus far he has arms, but the hands are hidden behind his back – difficulty with communication. Also note that the face is lacking in more distinct features with the exception of eyes – he has a very weak sense of identity."

Shinji fell out of the conversation after that. He didn't really get it anyway and Teacher would only scold him if he asked questions. When he was done drawing, Lützow clipped the paper to his board and stood. "Alright, _junger Herr_ , we're all done for the day. You did very well and I will see you again tomorrow." he said and held out a lollypop. Shinji snatched it from his hand and tore the wrapper off, deciding that perhaps Doctor Lützow wasn't so bad afterall.

When they returned to the Langley estate later in the day, it was straight back to lessons. The silver clock on the wall said it was six when Teacher dismissed him early. He wasn't sure why, but wasn't going to stick around to complain.

Outside, there were tinges of light left from the retreating afternoon, although it was dark enough for someone to trip over a rock if they weren't careful.

"Oww!" a girlish voice wailed.

Shinji searched the brush. It could only be– "Asuka?" he asked, poking his head around the other side of a tree, but finding no one around. Disappointed, he turned around and continued through the brush, passing by a stream towards the small little grove that hid the old shed. As the bugs and critters continued to call in the twilight, every now and then a twig would break or leaves would crunch, but he found no one there the moment he spun around. One time he thought he saw a flash of red.

The stars were clear in the sky by the time he came to the hollowed out husk. He sat in the grass, losing himself in the feeling of awe and majesty. They were always so bright as they blanketed the sky with their light, especially out here where the city rays couldn't hide them. According to Teacher, one day some of the stars would disappear because years and years away they had already died, it just took longer for their light to reach Earth. The idea made Shinji cold, like when the gray rains kept him inside. At the same time, it filled him with wonder that a star could still burn after it was gone.

"So what if they picked you too."

Asuka stood over the pit and he jumped back against a rotting piece of wood. She hopped down and kicked him in the leg. "That doesn't make you special!"

"W-what?"

"Don't be dumb!" Asuka stood over him, hair lit up by the moon. She pressed a hand against his chest to pin him, the look in her eyes making his heart quiver. "I was picked first," she said, pushing hard, "don't _ever_ forget it!"

She turned and ran off into the night, releasing the stinging pressure on his lungs. He grabbed at the spot her hand had been, legs curling up to his chest. Picked first? Shinji didn't even know what he was doing here. All he understood was that it was important to his father. So if he kept doing whatever it was Teacher and Lützow told him to do, father would come for him.

Wouldn't he?

* * *

* * *

Dark clouds billowed over the gardens, making the leaves shiver as the winds danced through them. But Shinji knew it wouldn't rain today. Normally it got stuffy and hot before that happened, making the plants shimmer with sparkling water, while the greens and purples and reds glowed vibrantly in the next day's scorching heat.

The mulch was soggy as Shinji walked down a familiar path, a thick, raw pine smell clogging his nose. He had to go off the marked trail for one that was discreet, but well trodden. There he found the huge olive tree that lorded over its small clearing, the grass and rocks worn at from years of play.

Looking up, the fat tree curled upwards with its strange trunk, splitting down the middle as the branches parted and blanketed the clearing with a pleasing umbrella of shade. The tiny dark green leaves glistened, as did the olives that remained on their branches. They had ripened now, changing from a bright green to a purplish black.

He could actually climb the olive tree pretty well on his own – though Asuka was still much better at it.

It always seemed so much harder by himself.

The thought made his face pinch, so he started to climb. As he reached the notch in the trunk where the branches split off, he realized all of the olives within reach had been picked already. Tearing away one of the empty bundles of leaves, he resolved to climb higher for his prize.

He must have nearly made it to the top, because the world looked far away when he glanced down. Fear pulled at his heart and he clung to the tree branches tighter. Asuka had fallen out of the tree a lot when they first started playing. But not anymore, she was like the monkeys he read about in his books – ascending easily and effortlessly. Swallowing, Shinji looked back up to the bundle of black olives, just a few more feet beyond his reach.

Cracking the branch free – it had the most on it – he started his descent. As he neared the bottom, he jumped off, nearly tumbling to the ground face first. That was when he noticed a sliver of red poking out from the other side of the tree.

Asuka was standing by the trunk, an air of indecision hovering about her in the way she lingered close to the tree with her hands pressed up against it, watching him.

He held out the branch to her. Glancing from him to it, she snatched off a handful of olives and started fishing out the cores. So he sat down, plucking out his own while still holding out the branch, which she would pick from every so often until the thing was nearly barren. When she eventually sat down amidst the roots with him, he assumed he must have been forgiven for whatever it was he'd done.

"I wonder if they picked other kids to pilot," he said, daring a furtive glance to see if he'd provoked a reaction.

"Of course they did, dummy," she almost sighed, pulling her eyes away from the castle and sparing him an annoyed squint.

"Then why aren't they here?"

"How should I know?"

He shrugged, sitting up and crossing his legs. "I wonder how many there are?"

She tossed one of the olive cores at him. "My papa says you're the Third."

 _Purpose: Third Child, Pilot,_ the letter from his father had said. Wait, if he was the Third, why were there only two of them here?

"Does that mean you're the First?" he asked – then paused, thinking better of it, "who's the Second?"

Asuka's eyes flashed. "It doesn't matter. Just a stupid number," she grumbled, jaw tight. The girl folded her knees up to her chest, hugging her arms around them as a hard look came over her expression. "I'm going to be the best."

That took Shinji aback, silencing any other thoughts he might have wanted to voice. Yet the air that settled over them was companionable and they sat in the quiet of the garden for a little while longer, sharing in the shade of the tree.

* * *

* * *

It wasn't long before the two resumed their regular routine, albeit with a bossier Asuka. All the while, Shinji's body ached. It was an itch in the back of his brain, as though he'd have to dig into his own skull and scratch at membrane just to subdue it. He didn't sleep very well at night, faceless wraiths spilling ominous shadows over his dreams.

It was one of the few reasons he'd journeyed deep into the garden today, to places not even the groundskeeper Gepard traversed anymore. You could tell because it was riddled with the yellow dandelion weeds. They came here not so long ago to play with Tank. Asuka hadn't liked coming back since he left.

The clouds drifted overhead, completely free and without worry. Shinji wondered what it would be like to be one of those clouds. What it would be like to just sail in the sky forever with just the birds and mists to keep him company.

For now, he was sitting in the abandoned shed Asuka had found him in nights ago, watching the sky pass by while cooled under the patchwork shade of the trees. Sunlight doused the leaves of the oaks and maples and birches, making them glow. The music from his SDAT danced in his ears, adding a serene quality to the forest around him. He liked it when he could pretend the world was always this beautiful. He felt it reminded him of something – or someone. He could never really be sure, since it came only as a half-remembered dream, indistinct and shapeless. It was more like a feeling than anything else.

"Whatcha' doin'?" red hair cascaded over his sight, a pair of blue eyes demanding his attention.

Shinji's face twisted and he pulled his earbuds out, pointing past her. "Clouds."

Asuka rolled her eyes. "That's boring!" she whined, grabbing his right arm and yanking him up. Shinji didn't resist. "Come on," she said, marching him out of the valley and up towards the castle.

"Why?"

"I wanna' climb the olive tree."

"Do it by yourself..." Shinji grumbled and received a stinging flick on the nose. "Ow!" he cried, falling on his rump and shooting her a sour look, one hand rubbing his red nose.

"What are you being so weird for?" she asked, brow scrunched.

Shinji bit back the mean words on the tip of his tongue. He wasn't weird. He didn't voice the protest, she would only punch him or kick him and he was _not_ getting beat up by a girl today. Instead, he crossed his legs, hands clasping his ankles as he rocked on his butt, eyes fuzzing with green as he stared into the grass. "It's been a whole three years and... he still hasn't come for me. He said I'd only be gone for a while."

Shinji knew very well what the letter had said. He'd wasted away hours in his room reading it over and over until he was sick. It said he was supposed to be trained for the next five years, but why couldn't he go back and do that stuff there with him?

Asuka asked him once why he had come here. He'd told her because his dad had sent him away. They didn't really talk much about it again, but she'd been... gentler around him after that, nicer, even. At least, nice in the same sense that a lion only scratched your arm open instead of out right eating you. He wondered, briefly, if all girls were like that.

Asuka shrugged. "Maybe he doesn't want you."

"That's not true!"

"Then why hasn't he come back for you yet?" she sneered, leaning forward.

Shinji looked away. "That's– that's because he... he just..." his hands folded tight and he wanted to hit something. But she was right, wasn't she? If he'd learned anything about Asuka, it was how much smarter she was than him, so of course she would know about this stuff too.

Shinji's nose twitched and his mouth tugged down. He squeezed his eyes shut – maybe if he pretended hard enough, it would be a dream. Maybe his father really was coming back for him–

"What are you crying for?" Asuka snarled. Shinji opened his eyes to find the world a blur, his face streaked and wet. His friend was standing and glaring at him, fists clenched at her sides. "Stop it!" she shouted, shoving him. "Crying is for babies!"

"I'm not a baby!" he wailed. The rosebush came to him again, the scarlet liquid that smelled like metal spilling over his arm and onto his clothes, while she left him there next to that strange flower.

"Yes you are," she sighed, though there was still a sneer in her voice. It made his shoulders sag and he waited for her to leave, staring at the weeds by his ankles without really seeing them – feeling like he was falling out of his own body.

"Why do you always listen to that?" Asuka asked, drawing his eyes up, but she wasn't looking at him, glued instead to his SDAT. She was sitting down now too. He didn't remember when she had done so or how long they'd been there. Some of the light in the sky had faded.

Shinji shrugged with a half-grimace, heat burning against his lungs. He considered her expression for a moment, trying to figure out what she could be thinking. She wouldn't meet his eyes though.

"My dad gave it to me when he..." Shinji looked to the grass between his legs, a hand snapping some of the blades free. "When he sent me away..."

Asuka's lips pursed. "Do you hate 'im?"

Shinji shrugged again and they were soon consumed by the drone of the cicada bugs, and he almost wanted her to leave. He didn't deserve her company anyway and he couldn't blame her if she left. Maybe one day he'd learn how to be... normal. But... if she did decide to stay... he wouldn't hate her for it, even if she did say mean things.

Asuka stood then. "Shinjiii!" she whined, grabbing his wrists. "Come on, I wanna' climb the olive tree!" she pulled him to his feet, tugging him along insistently. He stumbled, one arm still held in her hand as they trudged through the wild pink soapworts.

Despite himself, for just a moment, a smile poked at his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sum et, scio ut, ergo fui: For I am, and I know, so I will.


End file.
